


skipping over blood

by cafedeluna



Series: beings of maleficence [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Mention of blood, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafedeluna/pseuds/cafedeluna
Summary: Taeyong is held captive, Doyoung will not show mercy— even if the captors are the people from his own coven.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Nakamoto Yuta, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Series: beings of maleficence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043505
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61
Collections: THE COLLECTION





	skipping over blood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to the first part of my witch series originally titled _Ashes of Maleficence_. This has been on my mind for a short while now and instead of making it a full chaptered fic, I'm finally writing it as a series instead. 
> 
> If you want to have an insight on how this verse would work in the future, check out my [prompt thread](https://twitter.com/dotaeholic/status/1331056170090414081?s=19) for this series when it was just an idea. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy ♡

_ “Oh, you can hurt him, he can handle the pain but I don’t think you can when I get my hands on all of you who took part of this stupidity.” _

Those words echoed around the silent walls of the manor, letting the silence claim it to nothingness before the sound of glasses breaking and blowing into different directions followed Doyoung’s outburst. The dark haired witch remains calm, shoulders lax and visage plain but the scenarios running in his head are nowhere neat and clean. His eyes sees only flashes of passages and words he can use to make bones break and skulls explode, tinted with red on the edges as the irritation of someone hurting Taeyong begins to creep under his skin. 

“Ouch,” comes a small voice from behind Doyoung, mirth laced with it as the petite figure sashays beside where Doyoung is seated in front of the long table in the dining hall. “This is the third time this month that I’m gonna have the windows repaired and buy new wine glasses. Anything glass really.  _ What the fuck? _ ” Ten sighs, he surveys the damages with a roll of his eyes; it lands on the back of Doyoung’s head who is sitting as still as a plank. But Ten knows better, he  _ feels  _ the storm that’s threatening to leave from Doyoung, harmful spells ready to spill from his lips like flowery words that bear poison. 

Another pair of footsteps enters the room, a figure which soon latches itself around Ten, strong arms circling Ten’s waist followed by a chin over his shoulder. “Did they mess with Taeyong again?” Yuta speaks, before nosing down the side of Ten’s neck which earns Yuta a sharp pang in his chest, born out of Ten’s simple touch.  _ “You kin of Lilith,”  _ Yuta hisses. 

“Need help?” Ten interrupts the silence, to which Doyoung answers by simply pushing himself from being seated. Tall and broad, Doyoung shakes his head at his two friends. 

"It's my coven. No one else can touch them." Doyoung says and faces the two other witches. Ten and Yuta stand properly upon having Doyoung's eyes on them, not because they're scared but to offer support for a fight that Doyoung will win anyway. "Besides, don't you two have somewhere else to be?" 

Yuta nods. "Yeah, we're going now." Ten agrees and waves a hand over the shards of glasses on any surface that it has landed on. "We just wanted to see if the place needs some renovation instead of reparations," the demon-witch hybrid says, mischief swimming in his dark irises that Doyoung dismisses.

The Raven Witch watched as the two sauntered out from the manor, the faint sound of jazz coming from the streets and pubs of New Orleans sneaking their way inside as the door opened and quickly faded when it closed. Along with it is all his restraint, his mind working around thoughts on how he would rip anyone limb by limb for messing with the Siphoner Witch.

_ “Ut pulvis arescit,”  _ Doyoung mutters under his breath as he walks towards his chamber, to change into more comfortable clothes. Behind him, shards of glasses disintegrate into dust, covering the furniture, floor and window sills with white particles. And followed by a  _ “Auferet uentus reliquiae”  _ and a gust of wind takes it all away, into the air the remnants of broken glasses vanish. 

⚜

Taeyong screams in agony, skin burning like he's being bitten by a whole colony of ants except that the pain licks through him— travelling under his skin, drilling down to his muscles and bones, poking all his arteries and veins to the point that he feels exploding. 

“You do know you’re wasting your time, right?” Taeyong says, as he does so, blood sputters from his mouth, painting his lips red as well as his chin when it rolls downward and settling on the dry pavement below him where he is kneeled. 

The people around him are lanky but tall.  _ Count on the Raven’s Coven to have tower heights,  _ Taeyong thinks and the images of Doyoung hovering above him flashes his mind; a shiver runs through his body. 

“We just want to talk to Doyoung, have him listen to us or else—” One of the men said but is immediately cut off by Taeyong’s shrilling laugh, it echoes and bounces off the bare walls of wherever they are. The lights are dimmed, making the place the most eerie and cliche ways on how one abductor picks a location. Taeyong finds it all too hilarious if not for the fact that his magic is subdued by spells and relics that goes against Taeyong’s nature as a siphoner.  _ Yeah, fuck the Ravens' gifted brains too.  _

Taeyong hangs his head as he cant do much with his hand being suspended up in the air by shackles that are attached to each side of the walls. He slumps his body forward as his laugh continues to echo around space, his body shakes until another surge of painful energy shoots through his arms and into his head; laughter turns into a gut gurgling scream. 

Blood sputters out of Taeyong’s mouth again, trailing down from his nose and pooling unto the ground between his parted knees. 

“You won’t even be able to speak a word, believe me. I thought everyone in the quarter already knows that?” 

Then there’s silence. At least for Taeyong. 

It seems like even if he is temporarily stripped off of his magic with all the damn precautions the faulty witches of Doyoung’s own coven has on Taeyong, his senses when it comes to Doyoung’s presence hasn’t been dulled and affected. 

Therefore, Taeyong feels the chaos before it happens to the unfortunate witches. 

“Exactly, it’s what I was thinking too.” Comes Doyoung’s voice, deep and dark that reverbates around the hollow place. There was a hurried sound of movement, surely coming from the lousy magic practitioners and not Doyoung. Taeyong knows because Doyoung moves as if he is one with the wind that it irks the siphoner because of how easy Doyoung can surprise him and cause him a heart attack. But at the same time, Taeyong takes pride in it. 

Takes pride on how Doyoung rises above anyone else and Taeyong gets to join him, by his side and on his bed.

It hasn’t even been 3 seconds when the echo of shoes against the pavement was replaced by gasps and sounds of bones being displaced, ligaments being torn and above all, the blood that drops on the ground like a crucial part of a spell that would soon end all of mankind. It was not heard but Taeyong immediately feels it when Doyoung’s hands come near his wrists to detach it off him.

Doyoung easily catches Taeyong into his arms, bracing him with his upper body as he wraps an arm around his torso. “I’m here.” Doyoung lowly mutters, Taeyong nods. “Can you sit for me for a moment? I have to talk to them,” Doyoung adds, Taeyong nods again. 

Speaking is not in Taeyong’s option, not when he can lean against the wall and watch Doyoung  _ ‘talk’  _ to his own coven members in the form of sending their heads lolling into an abyss which no one would be able to escape unless Doyoung allows them to. A mind prison that only Doyoung had discovered in the depths of libraries upon libraries, connecting ripped paper to another, just to acquire the knowledge that is now Doyoung’s very own weapon. 

Taeyong would know because he was there for the younger witch, flying from one country to another so they can raid all books that would offer them something, anything, for Doyoung. Knowledge being the younger's prime source of power, witchcraft literature engraved in his bones and brain like a life source just like any other Raven Witches who inherited it from their ancestors, starting from the beginning of time.

Magic that has been kept for ages until it becomes one with witches like Doyoung and those before him.

From the side, Taeyong looks at the Raven Witch, oozing with authority and power.  _ Such a sight to witness,  _ Taeyong thinks to himself; watching Doyoung drag one body after another to a corner before turning back to Taeyong with a satisfied glint in his wide eyes. 

“Why are you still sitting there? Can’t you heal yourself?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow down at Taeyong who simply smirks up at him. The siphoner tries to lift a hand to his lips where blood still clings to his skin, he wipes it with a thumb and watches it dry on the pad of his finger. 

Normally, he would be able to siphon magic from his own blood albeit having very little effect but just enough to heal small wounds or cast a simple spell— like, unlocking his small cottage in the woods maybe whenever he forgets his keys. 

If only he has access to a wider space of earth, where he can dwell in the power of nature that would allow him to siphon magic from it's depth, down to its core where gravity rests that would ground Taeyong into summoning a force into his body and limbs. 

“They injected me with Blue Lotus it seems,” Taeyong scoffs. “It will take a while to drain it out of my system.” Then he feels a hand on his chin, lifting it up until Taeyong meets Doyoung’s eyes that are still swirling with rage but also with worry. 

“How did they even get you?” Doyoung whispers, eyeing the trail of blood on Taeyong’s chin and wiping it himself with the handkerchief he pulls from his pocket. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned while I have someone clean those shit up.” 

And Taeyong falls into Doyoung’s arm, with only comfort to feel, the pain subsiding as Doyoung whispers a few words at him, lips touching the shell of Taeyong’s ears, breath tickling him down to his neck and a firm hand to ground him by his waist. 

Everything feels perfect. 

Doyoung has him and Taeyong is comforted by the idea that he is being held by the same person that has rescued him from the confines of his controlling coven and has always been protecting him ever since. 

Kissing his insecurities and worries away, chasing his fears when it consumes Taeyong and always seeing him for what he can offer and not for what he cannot. 

“Why do I always end up like some damsel in distress?” Taeyong sighs when Doyoung places him into the passenger seat of the car, without a care of the blood on Taeyong that would stain the seat. He waits for Doyoung to get inside before he adds, “I deserve a Nobel Prize for sticking up with you.” 

Doyoung turns the ignition but doesn’t move to start the car forward.. “Do you even know what a Nobel Prize is?” The Raven huffs, casting a glance at Taeyong who scrunches his nose at him. “God, why the fuck are you so cute?” Doyoung murmurs; and he leans forward, bridging the gap that is the cupholder between him and Taeyong. 

One hand reaches up to pull the siphoner by the neck until there is a clash of lips on lips. 

Doyoung kisses Taeyong slowly, savoring and careful; but Taeyong digs for more,  _ wants more _ so he does the work of prodding his tongue against the seam of Doyoung’s lips until he gives him the entrance he’s asking for. Without restraint Taeyong licks into his mouth, hot and wet, tongues lapping and dancing against each other that elicits a heavy moan from both witches. Doyoung’s hold on Taeyong’s neck tighten as he pulls him closer while Taeyong moves to scramble across the space, hitching a leg up so he could move to find a proper place on Doyoung’s lap— but not before Doyoung puts a firm hand on Taeyong’s leg and pulling away from the kiss, mouth hanging open, breath coming fast and shaking. 

_ “Home,”  _ Doyoung breaths. “You want a prize? Let’s get home first.” 

Taeyong nods, again, excited and ecstatic; pain forgotten with the thought of pleasure.

Once they got home, another whirlwind breaks; and it seems like Ten would also need to have a wall repaired and maybe a headboard to get fixed.

⚜

_ "Need I remind you that I'm not your interior designer to fix the mess you make after an outburst or whenever you decide to wreck things after having weird witchy sex?"  _ Ten exclaims by the next morning, with the four of them gathered in their living room. Taeyong who's nursing his tea while snuggling to Doyoung's side on their couch which Ten had just bought the week before.

"You talk as if you have control over your voice whenever you and Yuta have a  _ weird witchy sex,"  _ Taeyong fires back, making Doyoung grin over the book he's reading. 

Yuta scoffs, smug— bourbon in his hand.

Ten whips his head around to glare at the long haired witch. 

"What?" Yuta feigns in innocence. "At least we don't break things right, sweetheart?" And he winks at Ten. 

"Let's pretend that the whole manor didn't shake at dawn because Tennie is screaming at you to go harder." Doyoung snides. 

The crystalline glass in Yuta's hand breaks, exploding into a myriad of colors before taking form into confettis. 

"We need a renovation." Ten supplies with a defeated sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/dotaeholic) / [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/dotaebfs)


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